


Her Imperial Memories

by VioletThePorama



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors (Homestuck), Gen, but it is homestuck, headcanons, its not really anything bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletThePorama/pseuds/VioletThePorama
Summary: When you live longer than almost anyone else, you're bound to have some memories, and sometimes things can be fuzzy or hard to remember later down the road. But what if some of these memories came from another life entirely?





	Her Imperial Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is my first post on Ao3. I've posted it on Fanfiction.net but I feel sort of like nobody reads Homestuck stuff there often. Also this is probably my best work I actually have done. It has been beta read, but still please let me know if we missed anything.

You can't remember their names, but sometimes you get glimpses. Shivers and disorienting flashes of long lost somethings. On the handmaids occasional visits, you could look at her face that held no lines. Her face held nothing, like she had never been allowed to feel anything that would mar her. You could look at that face and see flashes of burgundy and red and words hurled at a girl like a trident. Cutting into flesh like one too. It's different than your killings, you're sure. She was allowed to live and suffer and snap, while your victims died. Mercy. That's what your culler taught you, on the world before, wasn't it? 

The memories, while unheeded and sporadic, were often helpful. Such as the case with The Grand Highblood or whatever the guppy was called nowadays. You had been ready to fork the purple-blooded wriggler, but were then bombarded with quick movements and the swishing sound of gloves and sleeves being moved against a forlorn silence. Blurs of purple and black and white and fingers against lips with swollen threads. When you came to the wriggler was laughing louder than you ever remembered, like he was reveling in the insane noise. 

You couldn't do anything but make him powerful. An apology maybe. You aren't sure anymore. You don't know if you were ever sure. 

During those encounters, you start looking for others who hold the same value. Eventually, you find them. 

An ambitious and volatile little fin, who's been working his way up in ranks. His flushed feelings were dreadfully obvious, and you don't feel bad about ignoring or taking advantage of it. You get the feeling he was a jerk in the other world too. 

He starts chasing after one of them though. A pirate. You leave things be with a foreign feeling in your blood pumper when you hear that she faces against a bright eyed neophyte who dies all too quickly. You had seen it all before. 

You curse yourself for not noticing an entire group of them until it was too late. Until they hated and scorned you. Though you doubt it could have ended any other way.

You attend one of their meetings, with your hood pulled high. You leave your higher shoes behind so that your height was that of a midblood. 

They recognize you anyway. When you step away, the talkative one, the little mutant, the annoying leader steps out and gives you a smile that's knowing and patronizing and you want to kill him. Then a little one peeks out behind him and you're a little shocked at her ears twitching to the noises, though you aren’t sure why. To the other side there's a snarky yellow-blood who seems so much more levelheaded than the one that you remember, and for the first time, you doubt what the Handmaid has told you. Everything crashes in the back of your thinkpan and you glare at them, noting that there was one missing from their group. You decide not to mention it, or rather, you decide not to mention anything. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The mutant is talking, and you hate him. You start to ignore them and leave-but something he says catches your attention. 

“-Meenah-“

“Water you glubbing aboat?!” You interject, turning and frowning at them stiffly. 

“Y9u remem6er.” He says. You stare for a moment before turning to go. 

“You’re insane, guppy.” You start walking, missing sorely the clacking of your heels that make you so much taller. Something blocks your path and you almost run into it. You look up and glare at the yellowblood who grins at you cheekily. 

“Are you 2ure you don’t want two joiin u2?” He asks, and you get the feeling that he isn’t asking for himself. 

“I’m S)(OR-E!” You hiss before storming off, your hands twitching for your trident. 

“We will see y9u later then.” The mutant says from behind. 

And you do. With you on the winning end this time. The mutant pleads with you and your army, seeming to have no self preservation until you mention his little group. You taunt and watch him carefully as you think through what to do with the others. The little ‘Psiioniic’ had tired himself out from overexertion. That gives you an idea. 

You order for the ‘Signless’ to be killed, and you blink back the distracting idea of blue and hoofbeasts when the executioner steps up. The green blood is spared and the girl flees, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The jade blood is sold. The Psiioniic, on the other hand, is connected into your ship. An honor really. 

The Handmaid visits. The mysterious figure returning to your castle has become more and more rare over the sweeps. She tells you that you are ready to go to space. To conquer and spread your kingdom so that your species will never die. When she goes to leave, instead of your usual insistence that she stays, you smile wider and more free than you have since her last visit, and make your way to your helmsblock. You’re sure your new helmsman has become lonely.


End file.
